Regrets and Revelations
by SunnieSary
Summary: Rating just to be safe. These characters are the property of JK Rowlings. The things we regret the most are generally those things which we have left undone, rather than those things which we did in error...
1. Long Lost

In the bowls of the great castle of Hogwarts, a dark haired man slumped over his desk. He had an eerie, haunted look about him and the air about him seemed dark and oppressive. In one hand he clutched a nearly empty bottle of Ogden's Firewhisky- the wrappings of which lay on the ground and gave mute testimony to the fact that he had opened it earlier that evening. In the other he clutched a photo, which he peered at blearily through reddened eyes.

"Twenty years today love," he slurred at the smiling and waving young woman in the portrait. Her hair was a dark chestnuty blond and was extremely wavy and thick. It fell to her waist in a thick sheet. Her bright brown eyes gleamed from a face that was lit with an emotion easily recognized as love. Her thick lips were parted as she smiled and her cheeks and nose held the hint of a mild sunburn. One of her hands waved cheerfully, and the other caressed her rounded stomach. She looked to be at least seven months pregnant.

For Severus Snape, potions master at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the photo caused both an intense joy and a deep sense of loss. This was the woman he had loved since the moment he saw her, at the age of sixteen. She was the only person he had ever truly loved, truly cared for. But this photo was also the only one he had of her, his beloved wife, taken a mere two months before she died along with their unborn child.

She would forever be the price of his decision to spy on Lord Voldemort, and despite the fact that his actions had saved countless hundreds of lives, he sometimes wondered if the gain was worth the cost of such an amazing woman. When he had learned of her death the sun seemed to darken, the world spun a bit slower, and the sky became less blue. The world had not yet recovered from her loss, and Severus doubted that it ever would.

With one last gulp he finished the last of the Firewhisky and staggered to his feet, trying not to let the spinning of the room bother him. He waited a moment for it to slow slightly and then placed the empty glass bottle on his desk. The house elves would get rid of it for him and they would never breathe a word of his drinking to anyone. Severus stumbled out the door and into the hall, heading for his quarters. What he needed now, more than anything, was to pass out in his bed and not awake until the next day. In his drunken stupor he failed to notice the photograph slip from his fingers and fall silently to rest upon the stone floor.

* * *

Hermione Granger, muggle-born witch, seventh year, and Head Girl was patrolling the dungeons by the tip of her wand light. Her partner, the Head Boy, one of her best friends and none other than the Boy-Who-Lived walked quietly at her side, sulking a bit. He'd been cross even since they had caught the last pair of students snogging- Ginny Weasely, their best friend Ron's little sister, and Dean Thomas, a boy in Harry's year. Hermione smirked to herself as Harry tripped and cursed rather more than was necessary about it. Harry might not want to admit that he liked Ginny, but the five detentions he'd assigned Dean (rather than the usual two) and the dangerous looking scowl on his face as he did so spoke wonders about his feelings. The frightened look on Dean's face as he faced down an angry Harry Potter told her that the other boy would be a lot more careful about where he snogged his girlfriend from then on.

Hermione considered telling him that Ginny only liked Dean because she thought the possibility of Harry liking her was remote. She also considered telling him that she had a strong suspicion that Dean was gay but she opted not to. Hermione had no real evidence that Dean was gay beyond her suspicions (and she was a big believer in evidence) and she knew that Harry wouldn't believe her if she told him. Even though he was considered a hero of the wizarding world, Harry still had trouble accepting that people actually liked him for more than the scar on his forehead. The concept that Ginny might actually care for him, have a crush on him, was far out of the realm of comprehension for Harry. Like most boys, he could be a bit thick when it came to girls.

His attitude reminded her quite a bit of her other best friend actually. Ron had bright red hair and a temper to match, but he also had kind blue eyes you could practically drown in and a glorious smile. He really could be a bit thick at times, she thought with a smile. He didn't know that she'd liked him ever since third year he, complete with a broken leg, had hauled himself to his feet and stood between Harry and his would be killer, Sirius Black (who later turned out not to be a murderer at all). After that she had fallen a little bit more in love with him every day. How adorable he'd looked in his Yule Ball robes, his nerves when he first started to play Quidditch, the way he would moan about doing work and call her a know-it-all, but would leap to her defense if any- even a professor- called her a know-it-all… she might as well admit it to herself, she was totally and completely head over heels for the boy.

Hermione was a firm believer in letting the boy come to the girl, and despite a few slip-ups (the good luck kiss before his first quidditch game in fifth year, a hard, fast kiss on the lips when she found out he'd lived through a curse she was sure had killed him in a battle at the end of their sixth year, and her tearful goodbye- complete with a kiss on the cheek- when she went home for their last summer break) she was determined to let him take the first steps toward establishing a relationship. Even though she was logical, there was a very real and thriving part of her that long for the romance she'd read about in books. Hermione was fairly sure that Ron liked her at least a little bit- his jealousy whenever she talked to any other boy, Harry's assurances, and the way he stared at her whenever he thought she didn't notice- were fairly large clues on that front. But Hermione was a bit caught up on the whole fairy tale idea of being swept off her feet, though lately her patience was beginning to wane. Ginny was urging her to take a few more drastic steps because, as Ginny put it, "Ron's so thick he'll probably wait till you're both thirty and then muck the whole thing up anyways."

She was startled out of her thoughts when her wand light fell on something resting on the floor. Hermione frowned a moment in consideration. She knew that Argus Filch, the school's caretaker, had already cleaned this corridor- he'd complained to her about the terrible state he'd found it in, covered in dung bombs and the remnants of the Weasley twin's fireworks. She crouched and Harry was momentarily brought out of his sulk-induced stupor. "What do you have there?" he asked, stepping closer and raising his wand to cast more light on the area.

"It looks like some kind of photograph," she said, flipping it over as she stood. The woman in the photo smiled and blew a kiss at her, her painfully familiar face beaming out of the photograph. Hermione suddenly felt faint and confused, as if everything was spinning rapidly around.

She felt Harry catch her arm, and realized that she was leaning heavily against him. Her legs had buckled and for some reason she was having trouble getting them to obey her and carry her own weight. Harry's voice was slightly frantic, and she realized that he had called her name several times. "Hermione, HERMIONE! What's wrong?"

The teenage girl lifted her eyes to meet the emerald ones of her best friend. In Harry's eyes she could see confusion, worry, and sorrow, and for a moment she had a pang of pity for him, for all that he had suffered and all that he would suffer in the war against Voldemort. She hated to add more to that burden but this was too much, far too much, to handle on her own. Hermione flashed him a reassuring smile, and he relaxed slightly as she managed to straighten up again, though he kept a supportive arm around her. He still looked tense and worried and she couldn't shake her feeling of sympathy. He always ended up being the strong one, the brave one, and she knew that it was not an easy role. Once more, for the thousandth time, she swore that she would stay by his side and give up anything necessary- even her life- to see him through the coming war. Hermione held the photograph so that he could see it, and he studied it for a moment, looking vaguely confused. "Harry," she stammered, "that's my mother…. My MUGGLE mother."

* * *

In a small house, far from the magic of the Wizarding School, a woman cowered in front of her enraged husband. He glared at her, practically snarling like a vicious dog. "Please honey," she begged, her scraggly, greasy blond hair tumbling in front of her weary brown eyes. "I'm sorry, I just" he cut her off with a slap and she bit back a sob. If she cried he would just become angrier, his blows would just get harder. Instead she trembled at his feet praying that it would all end soon.

This wasn't what she pictured from marriage, nor from her life. As she crumpled before her furious husband she once more regretted the loss of her first husband, a brave, kind, and loving man, who had proven too weak to battle the evil he had fought against. He'd kissed her one day, strolled away arrogantly, and never came back. She doubted that the possibility he would never returned had even entered his mind and she sometimes cursed him in her darkest moments. Maybe if he'd been less cocky, more willing to ask others for help, maybe then he would have lived. She'd remarried out of loneliness and desperation when her child was a year and a half; two years after her love had vanished. She had wanted a father for her child and a companion for herself, though she had failed miserably on both counts, she admitted to herself silently. The man she lived with now was no love of hers and was certainly no father to her daughter. She prayed that one day soon her soul would escape to find that of her first husband. Her child was almost grown now, almost old enough to be alone, and then finally she could let go.


	2. Old Friends and Hangovers

Remus leaned against the drab wallpaper in the library, laughing so hard that tears were streamed from his eyes. His entire frame shook as he tried desperately to control himself, though without a great deal of success. The fact that his friend of many years was rolling on the floor in hysterics didn't help him at all. After a few minutes (and several more deep gulps of air) he had control of himself once again, and he managed to casually stroll over to where Sirius lay wheezing heavily on the floor. "You really need to get into shape, mate. You used to be able to go an entire quidditch game before panting for air," he said, smirking, as he offered a hand to the dark haired man sprawled on the faded carpet. For once Sirius didn't manage a snappy come back, though it could have been due to the lack of oxygen he currently suffered from. Remus ignored this logical conclusion and made a note of this lack of response, so that he could use it a few weeks or months down the road to torment Sirius even more. It was wonderful not to be the only Maurader left in the world.

This thought caused Remus to smirk even more and Sirius to make a half-hearted attempt to swat him on the back of the head. Remus ducked with an entirely unsophisticated giggle and bent down by the book they'd been examining earlier, the one that had sent them into such uncontrollable laughter. It was a brightly colored red and gold photo album, and the caption under the two photos it was currently open to read "James's Fifteenth Birthday- Before and after". The first photo- taken just before James decided to try to drink a shot of Firewhisky for each year of his life- showed four young men with their arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, laughing and obviously living it up. There was a careless confidence in their eyes that made something deep inside Remus ache in longing. The second photo was much more interesting- Sirius was snogging a girl just out of Hogwarts (she was leggy, blond, and under the impression that Sirius had graduated from Beuxbatons- Remus had always cursed his friend's perfect, accent free French), Peter playing exploding snap with a large, local bruiser (exploding snap was a particularly tricky game while drunk, but as James had always said one of Peter's best qualities was that he could hold his alcohol- at least until he tried to stand), and James slowly sliding under the table as Remus attempted to help him overcome gravity (gravity had frequently worked against James when he snuck out of the castle to visit the Three Broomsticks), a task which was made more difficult by the fact that Remus had also consumed more alcohol than perhaps was wise and was feeling the effects of gravity himself.

Remus snickered again as he caught sigh of the photo. They had planned on taking a 'morning after photo', but none of them could quite bear the thought of a sudden flash of light- even the thought of movement had been a bit too much to bear. James never remembered anything of the night (stories of which were a main focus of Sirius's best man speech, a fact Lily found less amusing than her new husband), Sirius remembered only a little bit past the time the photo had been taken (when the leggy blond's fiancé had shown up), and Peter had remembered only blurry snatches of the evening. In fact, Remus was the only one of the four who actually remembered the entire adventure. Remus was frequently the only one who ever fully remembered what had taken place whenever there was alcohol involved. He'd spent a large number of his teenage years making up wild stories to tell his friends about their antics of the previous night. Remus was fairly sure that Sirius still believed he'd flown his broomstick naked around Hogwarts grounds, singing the latest hit by the Weird Sisters.

What had finally set the pair of friends off on their laughing binge was the memory of the large, red, and neatly written word PRICK that appeared across each of their buttocks as a result of the curse the blond's unhappy fiancé attempted to cast. To say that the man had been less than pleased to find another guy involved in an intense snogging session with his future wife would have been an understatement. Of course, when the four friends later made their staggering way back up to the castle, Remus had noticed that the pair was snogging in the corner as if nothing had happened.

The jilted lover had undoubtedly only planned to curse Sirius, but as he was also drunk, his mistake was excusable. It hadn't actually been the memory of the curse that had set them off (all four had been cursed a number of times throughout their seven years of school) but the expression of utter bewilderment on James's face when he happened to catch a glimpse of it in the mirror. The fact that it was three weeks after the incident (the blond's fiancé was apparently not only drunk but a powerful wizard) made the memory that much funnier. Not that the four of them had typically hung out in front of mirrors examining their backsides, well at least Remus hadn't. He wouldn't have been surprised to learn that Sirius had spent time using the mirror to exam his own backside, but then Sirius had always been rather vain. But James had always possessed an irrational fear of spiders and when Peter pointed out that a spider was perched on his shoulders (but not that he'd placed it there himself) the vanishing spell James had shrieked in his panic had been a bit too powerful- powerful enough to vanish his clothes as well as the spider that rested on them. That incident- along with several others that involved James without his robes- had also factored heavily into Sirius's best man speech.

Sirius was still recovering from his laughter as he reached to turn the page, and so when he suddenly gave a short choking noise Remus's initial thought was that he'd somehow laughed himself to death and as a result all of his attention was focused on his friend. That was until he noticed that Sirius's deep, dark eyes were glued to the book. Somehow knowing what he would see Remus dropped his eyes to the single photo on the next page. There were only three people in it, Remus on one side, Sirius on the other, and a thin girl in the center, all wearing Hogwarts robes. Sirius and Remus, of course, wore robes with their Gryffindor crest, the badge on the girl's robes indicated that she was a Ravenclaw. The three stood in front of the lake on a bright and sunny day, and appeared to be laughing a joke told by someone just out outside the frame of the photograph. All looked extraordinarily happy.

Throughout their long friendship, Remus had heard many people say that Sirius was good looking, and from an objective point of view Remus had to agree. Sirius had always been the best looking of the Marauders, of the boys in their year, of all the boys in Hogwarts pretty much. As usual Remus felt that his photographic self looked rather, well, worn when compared to Sirius's smooth good looks, but the girl in the photograph made even Sirius look plain in comparison.

She had her arms around both boys' waists. Remus's arm was wrapped around her own waist, and Sirius squeezed her shoulder. Remus watched as his photographic self turned his face toward the girl and whispered something. She giggled in response and lifted her face to give him a quick kiss, which earned a scowl from Sirius, who tightened his arm around her to break the kiss off early. She shot him a mildly annoyed glance, but was apparently soothed by his well practiced innocent look because she simply rolled her eyes and gave him a peck on the cheek. It was seventh year, Remus noted internally, as he spotted a scar he'd earned on an escapade at the Potter's house that summer (it would take much too long to explain here, suffice it to say that it involved a trio of house elves, an annoyed troll, two large bags of Bertie Botts every flavor beans, a dust pan, and three large vanilla cream pies). Then the girl turned to look out of the photo, and Remus promptly lost his train of thoughts.

She was strikingly similar to Sirius, with thick wavy black hair and deep eyes. Her hair was neatly pulled back from a thin face with well defined cheekbones and unusual, almost almond-shaped eyes. Her lips were a soft pink and seemed to turn up in a perpetual smile. Her eyes seemed to glow with something that took the breath out of every man who looked at her. Remus's mother had described her best- 'a regular Helen of Troy that one is.' And it was entirely true- the girl maybe couldn't have been described as classically beautiful, but her face was stunning and once seen, was totally unforgettable. If the infamous Helen of Troy had looked like this girl did, it was easy to see why her face had launched a thousand ships. Remus felt tears spring to his eyes, and the hand with which he reached forward and lightly stroked the photograph was shaking slightly. Sirius cursed quietly beside him before slamming the book closed. Remus barely got his hand out of the way of the pages as Sirius whirled and stormed out of the room. Remus distinctly heard him mutter several more curses under his breath as he left the room, the look of intense anger on his face surprisingly similar to the flash of mild annoyance that that photographic face of the girl had displayed earlier. Remus waited until he was sure that his friend was gone before he flipped back open to the page and sighed a single word, "Colista".

* * *

Ron had not slept a great deal, and the fact that he had potions first thing in the morning was not a greatly inspiring thought. He rolled over and pulled his pillow over his head, trying to block out Harry's voice telling him that he was going to be late. Wasn't that the point? The later he was, the longer he was asleep. It certainly made sense to his half-awake brain and he was sure it would make sense to Harry as well if he would just think about it a moment. Ron felt his friend rip his pillow off his head and smack him with it. "C'mon mate, Hermione might need us. Remember? She should get an answer back from her mum today." Ron came to his senses with a jolt. He remembered Harry and Hermione returning from rounds last night- Hermione pale and shaky, Harry stern and worried. The photo had startled him as much as it had startled them, and he had sat with them as Hermione had jotted off three notes- one to her mother, asking her about the photo and warning her to be careful, one to Remus at Order Headquarters, asking him to keep an eye on Hermione's mother, and one to Professor Dumbledore, requesting a meeting.

Ron had meet Hermione's mother briefly a few times- she was a pale, meek, and quiet woman. The obvious joy in her eyes in the photo was missing from them now. But it was Hermione he worried about. She was so stressed already, what with her head girl duties. She didn't need this; she didn't need to worry about her mother and her family. Ron knew she would assume that her mother was in danger and that someone at Hogwarts was going to try to target her. What really puzzled him was that the photo was so old, likely from the time that she was pregnant with Hermione. Who would have taken a WIZARDING photo of Hermione's mother that long ago? Hermione was muggleborn, her family had never even known magic was real until she had gotten her letter from Hogwarts. Ron grumbled a greeting to Harry and his roommates as he pulled on some clothes and darted down the stairs, determined to spend the day cheering up his bushy-haired best friend.

* * *

Snape was in a very foul mood. The day had not started out well- hangovers tended to do that to a morning. Unfortunately, Snape happened to be one of the point five percent of the population that was allergic to hang-over remedies. The only treatment that worked (however slightly) was the old muggle trick of popping a few aspirin, avoiding bright lights, and lots and lots of water. There was a reason that Severus preferred his rooms in the dungeon- less sunlight. But what was worse, he had lost it. The only photo of he had left of his wife after the destruction of her safe house, and he'd lost it. He'd tried summoning and tracking spells, but he'd had no luck. The effort had just made his head hurt worse. So it was in this lovely temperament that he stormed into the potions classroom for his first lesson of the day- seventh year NEWT level potions. He scowled at all the students, including for once, the Slytherins. There were four Ravenclaws (Terry Boot, Padma Patil, Morag MacDougal, and Lisa Turpin), one Hufflepuff (Susan Bones), three Slytherins (Daphne Greengrass, Blaise Zabini, and Draco Malfoy), and a grand total of four Gryffindors (who else but the golden trio and their tagalong friend Neville Longbottom).

His angry gaze fell upon Hermione Granger who was laughing at something Ron Weasley had just said, her cheeks heating up prettily as he brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. Harry, watching them, smirked. Severus scowled. Something about Miss Granger had always disturbed him. Whenever he looked at her he felt like he had both lost and found something of extreme importance. It felt as if he she recognize her or know her in some way, and he always felt like he was missing something obvious. It was an odd feeling, and not one that Severus liked to have.

"Ten points from Gryffindor Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger. If you ever flirt in my classroom again I will be forced to dismiss the entire class due to illness. It turns our stomachs." He smirked at the looks of shock and embarrassment on their faces. Gryffindors were MUCH too easy to upset, and he took a perverse amusement by seeing how many he could annoy in a single day. The numbers were frequently high. He whirled (though it hurt his head, it looked suitably dramatic) to speak to the class as a whole. "I tire of your incessant chatter. I've split you up into new groups, which will hopefully result in a much quieter classroom." He crossed to his desk and picked up a sheet of paper. He'd cast a randomization spell on his seating chart last night. Well, he'd actually cast several before he found one that meant no one worked with someone else from their house. While he was often seen as prejudiced, Severus privately prided himself on attempting to bolster inter-house relations- or he would have if it wasn't so easy to torment and intimidate so many of his students. He felt that muggle boot camp would have done many of them a great deal of good, toughened them up a bit and made them all a great deal less sensitive.

Feeling that he had paused long enough to make the students sufficiently tense he peered at the class over his sheet of paper. "When I call your name, move to the desk that I indicate. No talking!" he warned in a low voice designed not to cause more pain to his throbbing head than was absolutely needed. "Longbottom and Bones. Boot and Greengrass. Zabini and Patil. Malfoy and Potter. Granger and Turpin. MacDougal and Weasley." He waved his wand; forcing himself not to flinch at the effort it took for his hung-over body to perform the spell. "Directions are on the board. Get started, any mistakes will cause an explosion, which will mean an instant zero. So if you intend to pass this course, I suggest you all start showing far more skill than you have demonstrated in the past seven years." He sank down at his desk and couldn't resist rubbing his temples, choosing to ignore the quiet mutterings and grumblings of the students as he matched them with near strangers, or even, in a few cases, perfect enemies.

Harry, being the subtle Gryffindor that he was, sulked as he added a handful of newts ears to the potion. He didn't like his potions partner; in fact, he hated him almost as much as he hated potions. If this wasn't required to be an auror, he'd walk out this moment, he thought angrily and imagined, with pleasure, trying out a few of the curses and he'd learned over the years on his potions master. The thought of the bat bogey curse brought a slight smile to his face. It was the first time all day that he hadn't spent trying to puzzle out how a photo of Hermione's mum- and a wizarding one no less- had come to be on the floor of a hallway in Hogwarts. He could tell that the stress was getting to his friend, and Ron's wild conspiracy theories were not helping her to remain calm. A quiet tap on the desk drew his attention downward. Scrawled in green ink on a bit of parchment was a short note. "What's wrong with Snape?" Harry studied the man momentarily. He was massaging his temples, and looked very pale. Harry knew that look; he'd seen it on his uncle several times. He jotted a quick reply, "looks hung-over" and slid it back down the table. It wasn't until then that he took the time to wonder why Draco Malfoy, who'd always acted little nothing more than a spoiled, cruel, self-centered prat, was worried about the least liked teacher in the school. That line of thought carried him through to the end of the thankfully explosion free class. Although Harry was reluctant to admit it, he and Draco had worked well together, their styles of potion making complimenting each other far better than he and his regular partner, Neville Longbottom, did.

* * *

Meanwhile, in a long unused corner of the school, in a tiny dusty, windowless room, a delicate golden arrow began ever so slowly to swing from its upright position to one parallel to the ground. If you dusted off the contraption, you would find a half circle of gold and silver with strange symbols decorating the edges. It was around five feet tall, and the metal was easily several feet thick, and on its face rested an ornate golden arrow that was free to swing from symbol to symbol. If you had studied ancient runes then you would know that the first symbol that the indicator had pointed to (where it had pointed to for several hundred years) was the symbol for patient waiting. The symbol that the indicator pointed to now was the one for triumphant arrival. You'd also know that you were supposed to brush the symbol with your fingertips. If you did so you feel a sharp and almost overwhelming sense of danger, and for days afterwards whenever you closed your eyes you'd see the Hogwarts crest and hear the soft strains of the songs that the sorting hat had sung throughout the years. 


	3. Thoughts of the Past

Here's the redone third chapter! Again, I own nothing. The characters and concept all belong to JKR. The twisted ideas are mine since I doubt she wants to lay claim to any of those.

* * *

Sirius Black was drunk, and massively so. This thought managed to permeate his alcohol soaked brain as he clung to the area carpet on the floor of his bedroom. He didn't want to fall off the carpet- it seemed an awfully long way down to the ground. Sirius had ironically always had a fear of heights- a fact James had always thrown into his face whenever they started debating who the better quidditch player was. Even in his current state, Sirius knew it was him. After all, as beater, he had managed to salvage many a game by taking out the other team's seeker. Sirius had been a rather brutal quidditch player- he had caused a grand total of 113 broken bones on the quidditch pitch- counting both games and practice- from the time he had joined in the middle of his second year, when one of the team's original beater quit to spend more time with his girlfriend. Sirius was quite proud of that figure as it had been more than double the previous record. As far as he knew, it was still standing. Footsteps on the stairs shook the floor slightly and Sirius groaned and held onto the carpet even tighter. He REALLY didn't want to fall off.

The footsteps stopped for a moment, which was a puzzle, but that problem was quickly solved as the door swung open and Remus toppled into the room and landed flat on his face without making any attempt to catch himself. That fact, combined with the empty bottle of Mick's Magical Mead Remus was clutching clued Sirius into the fact that Remus just might be drunk as well. Being the good friend that he was, he reached out a hand to try to shake Remus's shoulder to make sure he was still alive, which is when it happened. Sirius fell off the rug. It took him a few moments of lying on the oak floor to realize that he had actually fallen off, and then he gave a belated shriek of surprise. Being the good friend that HE was, Remus blearily raised a head and dragged himself to Sirius's side, being in a slightly better state than his friend. He HAD just managed to walk up several flights of stairs from the kitchen, whereas Sirius was currently having issues determining in which direction 'up' lay.

"S'al'right mate o' mate o' mine" Remus said with a giggle (hey, falling off a rug was rather amusing), attempting to pat Sirius's shoulder with one hand, but missing entirely and swatting Sirius in the head. It was ok though, as Sirius thought Remus was patting him on the back, having determined (incorrectly) which way was up. "You's a bit drunk," he said in a professional sort of manner- or at least as close to a professional manner one could manage while laying sprawled on the ground, clutching an empty bottle of Mick's Magical Mead. Remus was silent for a moment, and then admitted in a grumpy sort of tone, "I'm a'bit drunk s'well." This statement was followed by a slight thump and a groan as Remus, forgetting momentarily that his bottle of mead was empty, attempted to drink from it only to miss his mouth and poke himself in the eye with the lip of the bottle.

Sirius attempted to sit up in order to better see Remus, but succeeded only in bumping his head against the floor, as he had incorrectly determined which way was up. Remus gave him another comforting pat on the head (or shoulder or back depending on who's point of view you took). "Lo' mate." His voice startled both of them- each had come to the conclusion that Sirius was much too drunk to be able to talk. The room lurched and Sirius whimpered slightly- he had just caught sight of the still open door (Remus having been too occupied with gravity to have closed it) and was currently afraid of falling out of it. His hands scrabbled for something to hold onto, and finding nothing else, he took a firm grip on Remus's ankles. "I don't like heeeeeeeiiiiiights," he mumbled, dragging out the last word to make sure that he was actually in control of what was coming out of his mouth, and that the whole thing wasn't some elaborate trick of Remus's. Hey, you could never be too sure, Remus could be a fairly tricky guy. Sirius could still distinctly recall the time he'd been caught wandering around the transfiguration department in the nude because Remus had managed to convince him that he had: A) Perfected an invisibility spell B) The spell only made living things invisible so Sirius had to strip, and C) That the fact that Sirius could see himself did not mean that Sirius was visible, but simply a side effect of the spell- the person under the spell could always see themselves but others could not. Sirius was fairly sure that Remus had spiked his pumpkin juice with a suggestibility potion that night at dinner, but he had no proof.

As Sirius was lying on the floor, his statement about heights slightly puzzled Remus, as did his friend's firm grip around his ankle, but years of experience with a drunken Sirius had taught him not to try to understand, and just accept what the drunken Black said. Things were just simpler that way, as Sirius's explanations were often far more confusing than the original statement. Besides, they each knew why the other was so drunk, and this knowledge was enough for the present moment. It was all due to the photo they had seen earlier that day, and the girl in the photo. Neither of them mentioned her, it just wasn't their way.

Neither Sirius or Remus had ever been particularly adept at expressing or showing grief, or any other emotion for that matter. Sirius, because his family 'discouraged emotion' as Sirius had quoted his father once. Remus because the same walls he erected to keep the wolf at bay also kept his emotions hidden deep below the surface. James was better off than the other two, as he came from a loving, open family- when he was happy, it was clear, and when he was angry, the whole world knew- but he was never good at getting his friends to talk about tough subjects. It had been Peter, ironically, who had been good with emotions, something that had convinced Sirius off and on through their years at Hogwarts that Peter might be gay. No straight man could be that good with feelings, and if one could, Sirius felt it was entirely unfair. It was Peter who managed to break James out of the mental stupor he trapped himself in when his parents were murdered. It was Peter who found out why Sirius was so surly immediately after Lily and James announced their engagement (he'd been worried that their marriage would mean the end of the Marauders, and in addition, Sirius had never been good at change). And it had been Peter who had explained to the others why Remus had initially avoided and spurned them immediately after they confronted him about his little monthly trips to 'see his mum', and told him that they knew the truth. It had also been Peter who had patiently and repeatedly explained to them why whatever girl they were currently dating was angry (Sirius used this service the most, as Remus managed to be fairly considerate and James tended to spend all his time haring after Lily) and what exactly they could do to remedy the situation. Peter had been the one who had finally convinced James that another approach to the 'Lily Situation' might be the best, and it had been Peter that had clued James into the fact that his new approach to the 'Lily Situation' was actually working.

But the Peter they had known in their school years was gone now, having died the night on which he had agreed to join Voldemort. Remus still couldn't believe that Peter had been subtle enough, sneaky enough to hide from his friends the fact that he was a spy for Voldemort. It had been Peter, however, who had suggested to Sirius that Remus could be the spy, that it would make so much sense, that maybe there was something dark inside their friend they had never seen. And it had been Peter who had told Remus that Sirius was acting strangely, was getting strange owls, and remember that he had such a terrible temper and had already nearly committed murder and Peter was really worried that Sirius was the spy. So, it was a result of this betrayal and of the memory of the girl in the photograph that the two friends lay sprawled in a drunken stupor upon the floor.

In a large, airy mansion set somewhere in the English country-side, a thin, pretty woman sat alone at a long, beautifully set table. Above her head a chandlelier decorated with live faeries- magically bound to prevent their escape- sparkled and along the walls witches and wizards with serious faces sat sternly in chairs, their expressions somber and their bodies motionless except for an occasional shifting of weight or the turning of a head to better see the room.

* * *

It was very late to be having dinner- nearing ten o'clock- but her husband had been summoned early this afternoon to the Dark Lord's side, and she had waited up for him. A useless exercise, as he had returned a few moments ago, only to collapse with a soft cry. The woman knew her husband well enough to know that he had probably taken several Crucios- anything else he'd have shrugged off. He had gotten quite good at dealing with various curses over the years, although Crucio was one that no one ever really 'got used to'. It hurt just as much every single time, and was just as draining. She had helped him up the stairs to their bedroom and tucked him gently into bed, where she had sat a moment watching as he drifted in and out on consciousness. For him to be this badly effected, he'd probably taken many so-called punishments, each lasting several minutes in length. It sometimes gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach to think how many years these curses must be taking off his life. When she had been sure he was resting fairly comfortable, she had brushed a strand of his unusually long hair away from his face and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. It was only when her husband was unconscious or asleep that she could show any affection without drawing his arrogant mocking down upon her.

She knew it was foolish, for her husband was not a kind or good man, but she still loved him, deep down in the small part of her heart that was still young, the one part that hadn't been forced to grow up too quickly due to the war. She adored him, and that adoration had kept her young. Then she had retreated downstairs to the dinner table, to eat alone. She supposed she should be used to it- her husband rarely ate with her, and there was no one else for her to have regular meals with. Friends weren't appropriate- when you reached the station that she and her husband occupied, you had no real friends, just people who envied your position and would stab you in the back to earn it for themselves. Both of her sisters were dead- her younger sister had died years ago in the first war and her elder sister only a month ago. Though her younger sister had been a traitor to the cause and her death had been her older sister's doing, the women still mourned them both equally. She mourned for the powerful, determined young witch that had been her older sister, the girl who had cursed her husband's father at a party and gotten away with it. She mourned for her shockingly smart younger sister who could out debate wizards twice her age.

The woman's parents had been dead for years, as were her aunts and uncles. In fact the only family the woman had left in the world was her niece, the daughter of her youngest sister whom she had seen only in a few photographs and once in person, a cousin who had been disowned years before and who was still angry- and rightfully so, the woman thought in retrospect- about the way she had treated him when they were children, her beloved husband who lay sleeping upstairs, and her son.

The thought of her son brought a smile to her lips. He was just a few days past seventeen now, and in his sixth year at Hogwarts. He was a Slytherin, as she had expected he would be. The woman didn't subscribe to the idea that all Slytherins were destined to be dark wizards- but she knew that Slytherins typically had a great deal of ambition, and more inner strength than most people realized, both of which were qualities her son would need in order to be a success in life. He was already a leader, having been made captain of his Quidditch team and being the ring-leader of his own little gang of groupies, who followed his directions with-out question. In his last letter, he had told her how he thought he might be falling for one of his best friends, a girl she'd always hoped he would come to love. He was stronger and more powerful than the woman could have ever hoped, though she worried about him a great deal. She knew her husband would want him to join the Death Eater's soon, but she hadn't raised her son to follow the orders of another. He gave orders, he didn't accept them. He would never grovel at a masters feet to beg forgiveness or accept torturous punishments for things he could not have prevented. If he refused to join, he would be in grave danger, but if he did join, he would spend his life as her husband had- slowly becoming more bitter and cruel as his soul was eaten away bit by bit. Then there was the secret, the one the woman kept locked up in her soul, the one she had never shared. She was the only person still alive who knew the truth.

She could still remember the night the secret had started, one of those nights near the end of the first Great War, when her husband would be gone on missions for days on end. She'd been relegated to her rooms by her doctors- she was a large five months pregnant. On this occasion, tears were leaking down her face and for the first time, she dreaded her husband's return. She didn't want to have to tell him that she had lost the child, lost his child, his son. She couldn't even bring herself to summon the house-elves. She had called her younger sister, who had sat with her for several hours, saying little. It was the first time she had seen her sister in several years and the first time she had seen her sister's little girl, ever. The child was seven, and adorable. She had the unique ability to change her appearance, and a sweet attitude the woman knew she should have dismissed as weakness, but instead she found endearing. Finally, her sister had needed to leave. They were on opposite sides of this war, after all, and neither could risk having mother and child found in this room. It would have spelled destruction for them all, and yet the woman had felt a pang of sorrow as she watched her sister step into the floo with her daughter in her arms.

The woman had been running through scenarios in her head, trying to think how best to tell her husband that she had lost the child. It had been hard for her to get pregnant in the first place, and she and her husband were getting desperate. The Dark Lord had been placing a great deal of pressure on his most trusted servants to do their part in purifying the wizarding world by producing pure blooded heirs. The loss of her child grieved her deeply, especially as he hadn't even had a chance to live. She couldn't help wonder if it was something she had done, if she was being punished in some way for some horrible deed, though she could not imagine what she could have done that warranted the miscarriage of her baby.

But she was also afraid that the baby's death would mean death or some other horrific punishment for herself or her husband. It had been in the midst of this contemplation that her fire had flickered green momentarily, and she had whirled in fear, not ready to share her sharp pain and grief with the rough man who was her husband. But it wasn't him; it was the last person she had ever expected to see. The Gryffindor, several years the woman's junior, former head-girl, mudblood, and one of Dumbledore's most trusted allies, stood in the master bedroom of the house of one of the darkest pureblooded families in all of England. The woman froze, and automatically reached for her wand, though the desperate, fearful look on the girl's face told her that the purpose of this visit wasn't a violent one. It was with a pang of loss that she noticed the girl's stomach was rounded in the way her own stomach should be, and for a moment she felt sorry for the other girl. She was barely two years out of Hogwarts, just recently married, one of the main targets in this war, and now she looked to be at least five months pregnant. The woman didn't envy her position, she knew the fear a mother could have for her unborn child.

"Narcissa, please," the girl whispered quickly to the woman, "I need help. Your little sister, she sent me here. She said you might be able to help me. I know you don't know me well, and that you have no reason to help me but, I'm desperate" The pale girl's hand dropped to rest on her stomach. "I'm supposed to have two sons. The one…. there's this prophecy…" the mudblood swallowed for a moment and then continued, "It puts us at risk," she swallowed again and Narcissa lowered her wand to peer at the younger girl, waiting to see where this was going. Sensing she had caught the woman's attention, the girl continued in a rush, "We can't be sure our sons will be safe. Having one son in danger is hard enough, but I can't stand having them both in danger. I can't lose them both. I need to know that at least one of them is safe. Your sister," there was a moment of hesitation as if the girl was afraid to dredge up painful memories; "she said you were in some trouble too. We can help each other. No one else could suddenly be five months pregnant without people getting suspicious. No one but your sister knows about your son" There was sympathy in the girl's eyes, and understanding as well, and for the first time since she had lost her child, Narcissa felt that there was hope. "There's a spell, it can make my second son," there was another hesitation and then in a softer voice the girl continued "yours. He'd be yours. I'm five months along as well, and you'd carry him the rest of the way. He'd look like you, and you'd raise him. I'd announce that I'd lost one of the twins, that I had miscarried. You'd be able to keep him safe, so that even if something happened to me, to my husband," the girl swallowed hard, "to my other son, he'd be safe. He'd be yours." there was a slight tremor in the girl's voice, and the woman just stared at her in surprise, shocked at the desperation that had driven the girl to seek the help of her mortal enemy. The desperation only a mother could understand, the willingness to do anything to change things for your child, even if it meant giving up your child forever so that he would have a chance at a better life. "He's pure blooded," the girl whispered, a haunted look in her eyes, and it was then that Narcissa made her decision. Even if she hated this girl and her husband and friends, even if they were on different sides of the war, even if this girl still had her children while she herself had miscarried, and even though it was common knowledge that the Dark Lord wanted this woman, her husband, and her unborn sons dead, the look in the girl's eyes appealed to the mother within the woman. She stepped forward and lightly rested her hand on the girl's rounded stomach, and looked into the bright green eyes of the girl who was nearly nine years her junior, but who understood better than anyone else how it felt to lose her son.

"I'll do it. I will care for him, and love him, and he will be safe. My husband will never know," she whispered, and the girl's eyes filled with tears of sorrow and relief. It wasn't for the safety of herself or her husband that Narcissa did this, but out of a sudden need to ensure the safety of the defenseless, innocent child. If the circumstances had been different, they might have hugged, but instead they did what they needed to, and then the girl left, going back to her own world, back to her husband and her friends, while the woman sat in a fine silk chair, caressing her pregnant belly. She was to have a son after all, one that would be her's to raise and love and care for. Narcissa though momentarily of the son she had lost, but forced the thought from her mind. If this was to work, she would have to forget that this had ever happened. The child would have to be her son with all of her heart and mind and soul, so that none would ever guess the truth. Narcissa allowed both hands to come to a rest, lying flat against her rounded belly. "Your momma loves you," she murmured to the baby inside, and if she had cared to think about it, she would have admitted that she referred to both of the child's mothers, and that she had a new found respect for the green-eyed girl who had given her a son. If you traveled several hundred miles north to a small flat in a muggle neighborhood and asked a green eyed young woman who was curled into a ball in the center of her living room floor, crying her eyes out for the son she had saved and the son she had not, she too would admit a recently discovered respect for the rich, grieving woman who had overcome her prejudices to save the child of her sworn enemy.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was dozing in the large armchair behind his desk, dressed in a fuzzy purple dressing gown and a pair of green rabbit slippers. A midnight blue sleep hat perched on his white haired head. He was awaiting a message from a few of the reclusive order members in regard to some information he had asked them to recover for him. Typically he would have gone to sleep and read the message in the morning, but the information was fairly important he couldn't risk leaving the message out where anyone could read it. Not even the core members of the Order knew of the existence of the pair currently on a mission. He had learned something last time- if everyone in the group knows everyone else, it is much easier for your enemies to plant a spy in your midst. If you had several small fragments who knew nothing of each other, then it was much harder for infiltrators to find out who all the members were. Last time he had used a few independent members, but they were few and far between. This time he had many more secret groups and factions.

In fact, most of the members of the 'main Order' as he liked to think of the group who met regularly in Sirius's house in London were in fact leaders of smaller factions- each leader falsely believing they were the only member of the Order to be in command of a smaller, splinter group. It was quite effective, actually. There were a few members outside of this chain of command, and it was for two of these members that Dumbledore was waiting up.

A green light flickered in his fireplace, and a letter zoomed out of it to land precisely onto his desk. Dumbledore came totally awake almost at once and quickly tore open the envelope. This wasn't a mission that was vital to victory against Voldemort, though it was certainly one that could greatly improve the morals of several of the Order members. In fact, if the information had been successfully obtained and the recent rumors proved true, there would one of the greatest homecomings to grace the wizarding world since Sirius Black had returned from this trip behind the veil.

The elderly headmaster hesitated for a moment before unfolding the letter, remembering. Sixteen years ago he'd sent an Order member on an extremely dangerous and extremely secret mission, a mission from which she had never returned. Dumbledore had always felt he was to blame- if not for the young woman's failure at least for the pain he'd caused her family and friends. At the time he'd been so eager for her to complete the mission that he hadn't even allowed her to tell them she'd be gone for a little while, not to worry, and that she loved them. He'd been arrogant, and had believed that someone he'd personally trained couldn't fail. For a moment, the he was overwhelmed with the memory of her as she flashed him a grin and stepped into his fireplace, calling over her shoulder she'd be back in two days. The hard part was that he couldn't even tell her family and friends what he suspected, as she had been one of the few independent members of the Order. Instead, all they knew was that she walked out one morning and never came home.

Taking a deep breath Dumbledore unfolded the note and quickly scanned it. Before he had read two lines he dropped the letter and buried his face in his hands. She was alive, they had found the information. Even more than that, the pair had done far more than he had expected or asked. They had found her, freed her, and were bringing her home. Colista would be coming home. He sat like that for many long minutes before someone burst into his office without knocking and dashed up to his desk. It was Filch, looking far more excited than Dumbledore had ever seen him. It was a vaguely disturbing sight- Albus had become used to the caretaker's usual sour, angry expression. The squib slid to a stop in front of the desk and bent toward his employer, wheezing slightly. "I heard a noise in a room off the northern corridor of the seventh floor, at the unused end. I checked it out and," Filch gulped a deep breath as if trying to gather his wits, and then he dropped his voice to a whisper, "It has happened Albus, the Founder's Indicator says that they have come at last!"


	4. Family Ties

Sirius whimpered as he heard the heavy pounding of footsteps on the stairs of Grimmauld Place. He made a mental note to make a rule about running up the stairs when he had a hangover. He cracked his eyes and peered about the room. His hand was wrapped about Remus's ankle for some reason and they were both sprawled on the floor. Sirius tugged at Remus's ankles and mumbled, "Remus mate…. You 'wake?" The effort of talking made his head hurt more.

At the sound of his voice Remus chuckled. "Of course, I've been waiting for you to wake up. I didn't want to move and introduce you to the hangover I knew you were going to experience that much earlier." As he spoke Remus stood and disentangled himself from Sirius's grip. Sirius groaned in annoyance and contemplated cursing Remus with something nasty. The thought of the effort involved made him decide against it- at least for now. After all, revenge was a dish best served cold, not conjured like magical blue fire.

"If you weren't my friend I'd kill you." He pressed his face into the ground. "Stop smirking" Even though he couldn't actually see his friend; Sirius knew that Remus was smirking. Remus ALWAYS smirked when he didn't get a hangover and Remus rarely got hangovers. It was a positive aspect of the whole werewolf thing. Remus said that'd he'd gladly trade his disease for a few hangovers, but Sirius contested that that was just because he'd never experienced a real, full-blown hangover. James had always said he'd trade turning into a monster once a month for the ability to drink like a sailor and get up the next morning without blinking. Of course James had always been the one that had downplayed Remus's condition. He'd referred to Remus's 'monthly cycle' so many time that a few of the younger male students became confused about the whole concept of menstrual cycles. Sirius had wanted to play it up for a few months, telling the boys horror stories about terrible periods and cramps and discomfort and terrifying them out of their minds but then James found out and made him stop. After James had started dating Lily he had really become a lot less fun.

When he felt the tap on his shoulder he sat up and blindly reached his hand above his head with his eyes closed. Sure enough a glass was pressed into his hand and he gulped down the burning contents. There was a few nauseating moments, an intense pressure on his head, and then his hangover was gone. "Bloody hell Remus, do you always make a hangover remedy before you drink?"

"No Mr. Black, this time I was the one who made the potion." Sirius glanced at the door as he staggered to his feet. Dumbledore stood there, his blue eyes twinkling and that annoyingly unreadable look on his face. Sirius always found it frustrating that Dumbledore always seemed to know what was going on and why. It wouldn't surprise him if Dumbledore knew why they'd been drinking. It just wasn't fair that one person should know so much about everyone else's business. Sirius couldn't count the number of times that Dumbledore had appeared in the middle of the night just as they were setting up a complex prank. It was one of the reasons the four of them had created the map, an attempt to avoid being caught by Dumbledore. He had an excellent sense of humor but he often made them head back to bed and call of the prank. "I was hoping to find both of you here." Where else would I go? Sirius thought to himself slightly bitterly. "I have to confess I haven't always been quite… honest with you. I had to keep some things from you, from everyone. It was all to defeat Voldemort. I have to say I didn't think that this would happen after all this time…. But one can never rule out miracles. I want you both to prepare yourselves." Sirius's interest was definitely piqued. It wasn't that he hadn't expected the old man to be honest, but he'd never expected him to come right out and admit it, to tell them his secrets. Whatever this was, it had to be big. The old man surveyed them both seriously before glancing back toward the door. "You may come in now."

A slender figure in a blue cloak stepped through the door, the hood of the cloak pulled up tightly. Sirius found himself tense up and something deep within the pit of his stomach shudder and he suddenly realized that his hands were shaking. The figure raised one pale delicate hand and pulled back the hood. The woman had wavy dark hair and an uncertain smile on a face that was practically a twin to Sirius's own. She was thin and pale and had light lines about her eyes and mouth that hadn't been there the last time Sirius had seen her. He felt dizzy and terrified and exhilarated, and he prayed that this was not all some cruel dream or trick. This had to be real, she had to be real. A part of him wanted to grab her and shake her for leaving, for not contacting him for sixteen years and letting him think she was dead, and for walking back in like nothing was wrong. But another part of him wanted to hug her tightly and never let her go. He felt for a moment like he might be violently ill and he had to try three times before he managed to speak out loud. "Colista….." he said, speaking her name for the first time since almost a year before he was put in Azkaban. A heartbeat after he spoke the door slammed and he realized that Remus had stormed out of the room without speaking.

* * *

Hermione paced in the Headmaster's office as her hands fiddled with her wand, spinning it to and fro in her hands. More than anything she wished that Ron was here, or Harry or Ginny or someone. She didn't want to do this alone. She wasn't the most patient person and she was far too nervous for her own good. Combining the two- making her wait for something that made her nervous- was sheer torture. If she only had a friend to wait with her, she would feel that everything would be better. Ron would never have let her get this worked up. He would have cracked a joke or said something pratty so that she could yell at him or just sat there and watched her in the way he had that made all thoughts leave her mind. But this, this was terrible.

Professor McGonagall had cornered her as she left the Great Hall to go to Charms with Harry and Ron. Harry and Ron were doing some last minute reviewing for the test Flitwick had promised they'd have on cleaning charms and she had been scolding them for playing chess the night before rather than studying. When she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to face a grim looking McGonagall whose lips were thin and eyes sympathetic she felt her stomach drop to her toes. She hadn't yet heard back from her mother and all she could think about was poor Hannah Abbott, who had been pulled from class to be told that her mother had died. At the memory Hermione felt herself start to tremble. She was terrified for her mother; she was terrified for her every day and had been terrified since long before Voldemort returned. She knew that as the best friend of Harry Potter she was a target but she couldn't stand the thought of her parents being targeted for who she was and who she knew. "If he hurt her," she said aloud to the silence of the office, and when she spoke she was not speaking only of Voldemort.

The door to the Headmaster's office creaked open and Hermione whirled, inhaling sharply. Dumbledore stood there, looking at her gravely, his purple robes appearing almost florescent against his skin. "Greetings Miss Granger. I have a visitor for you." With his words Dumbledore stepped to one side to reveal a woman with thick brown hair, sunken cheeks, and a dark bruise smeared across her cheek. Her tired brown eyes were lined and her skin looked like it was made of plastic.

"MUM!" Hermione cried and threw herself across the room into her mother's arms. The two women- one young and one old- clung to each other. Hermione held her mother as tightly as she dared, trying to reassure herself that everything was alright, that the fears she'd had for her mother had in fact turned out to be false, that her mother really was here in Hogwarts. At that thought she pulled slightly away to look into her mother's face. While the defeated look that she hated was still present in her mother's eyes, there was a faint spark of something else. Hope perhaps? Hermione couldn't tell, all that mattered was that her mother was here, alone. "What are you doing here Mum? Won't Dad be... worried?" She'd almost said angry but she caught herself before she gave them away. Neither she nor her mother ever discussed her father and his moods, or the way he would treat them when they were alone. It wasn't something they brought up, and it was no one's business but theirs. Hermione knew that all her friends from Hogwarts assumed that she had a typical, loving family and she'd never disabused them of that notion. It would be too hard to tell anyone, even Ron whose face would go red and who would pace and shout and make things harder or Harry who would go pale and get that angry look he got sometimes, the look that always frightened Hermione just a little bit.

"I don't care what that man feels." Despite the brave words her mother's voice trembled slightly. "I've left him darling. We're free now." Hermione's eyes widened and she hugged her mother fiercely again. She knew what courage it had taken for her mother to walk out the door and while she was terribly proud, she was also terribly worried. Her father would be furious that she had left and would be sure to try and hunt her down to exact his revenge. Hermione knew that if he managed to catch up with her, be it in public or in private, the results would not be pretty and things would not end well. When Hermione opened her mouth to speak Mrs. Granger touched her daughter's lips lightly. "Hush darling. Don't worry, I will be fine. But I have to confess something to you."

The bedraggled woman glanced at the Headmaster as if for help and he motioned to a pair of chairs by his desk. "Take a seat, both of you. There is a great deal to discuss. Hermione, your mother and I have had a very long conversation, and I had a much briefer one with Mr. Granger. I am pleased to say that he will not be bothering either you or your mother in the future." Hermione closed her eyes, partly out of shame and partly out of relief. She could only imagine what Dumbledore would have said and she knew what she would have liked to have said and done. She opened her eyes when Dumbledore continued. "I'm afraid this is all going to be rather shocking to you, and perhaps a bit upsetting. You must be patient and allow your mother to tell the story all the way through before you ask questions." The aged Headmaster regarded her seriously. She'd stopped feeling nervous when she had seen her mother safe and sound, but now her stomach started to tighten up again. She nearly jumped through the roof when her mother placed her hand on her daughter's.

"Love, you've seen my wedding photos with your… father. You know you were a toddler." Hermione's mother took a great shuddering breath and Hermione was alarmed to realize that the woman was trembling as hard as she was herself. "I am afraid I've lied to you for a very long time. It wasn't that we had you and then waited a few years to get married. I didn't meet… Mr. Granger…… until you were about a year old. Darling, he is not your father." Hermione gasped despite herself. For a moment she felt nauseous and dizzy and then she just felt a massive flood of relief. The evil man who had hurt her mother and hurt her for so long was not her father. She owed nothing to him, not life or genes or anything. She was surprised she felt no anger at her mother for not telling her sooner, but the relief was so overpowering that she felt nothing else. As tears filled her eyes she turned to smile at her mother. Hermione had not felt this light, this free since she had received her Hogwarts letter. She didn't need to feel guilty anymore for hating him, because he was not her father and she had no connection to him. "I am sorry for not telling you earlier… He didn't want me to. He thought it would make you difficult and moody and hard to control." Even as waves of relief continued to pound Hermione she couldn't help but wonder who her real father was, it was the way her mind worked, jumping from one question to the next.

"Mum?" she started tentatively, "then who…"

Her mother cut her off. "When I was just sixteen my parents died, as you know. I moved to live with my grandparents who lived in a tiny village in northern Scotland. There was hardly anyone to talk to, let alone anyone my age. I was terribly lonely, and I used to go for long walks by myself, often with one of my grandfather's sheep dogs. My favorite was a sable collie named Lucy, and she became my constant companion. One day while I was out walking with Lucy in a deserted field she was attacked by another dog. I thought for sure she was going to die, she was so badly injured." Hermione was mesmerized as she watched a light she had never seen before come into her mother's face. "That's when I met him.

"He was just about my age and at first I thought he was wearing a bathrobe, but then I didn't care. I cried out to him, begging him to help my dog. I could see Lucy was dying, there was blood everywhere. He never even hesitated, he was beside me in a moment and he waved what I thought was a stick in the air and then Lucy was squirming to her feet, no longer broken and bleeding. I stared at him for a few long moments and then he waved his wand again and my clothes were clean of blood. He raised his wand toward me again for a moment, and then he hesitated and introduced himself. He told me later he was supposed to erase my memory, but he couldn't bear it. We talked a bit and soon we were meeting regularly. I adored him, but he was a bit block-headed and it took him a bit longer to come around to my way of thinking. Eventually we married and I became pregnant." Hermione gasped. She had seen where this was going but she could hardly believe it. Her dad… was a wizard?

"We were terribly happy though it was hard times. He'd gotten wrapped up in some bad things before we were married and he was involved with some very bad people. He put me, and my unborn child, in hiding so we would be safe as he took huge risks to try to save the lives of strangers. One night he kissed me, told me he loved me, and walked off like he couldn't be touched. He never came back, I heard later that he'd been killed." Hermione's mother took a deep, shuddering breath and closed her eyes for a moment. Hermione had never seen such an intense look of pain on her mother's face, even when her mother's husband had been in a rage. "I married Mr. Granger because I was so lonely and I so wished for you to have a father. I failed there." Mrs. Granger took a shaky breath. "But then you told me about that photo. There is only one person who could have a photo of me, waving and smiling and pregnant. I gave that to him before he left the final time. I contacted Dumbledore when you wrote to me about it. At first I was afraid that he was here and had proved to be evil after all and that is why he did not return. I was afraid to you. But after I spoke to Dumbledore…" Her mother squeezed her hand and then turned her gaze toward Dumbledore. Hermione followed her eyes, her thoughts reeling. Her father was… a wizard. She wasn't a 'mudblood'…. She was a half blood, like Harry, like Voldemort. If her father was still alive, he must have left her mother, alone and pregnant and grieving. The relief Hermione had felt earlier was washed away with anger.

Dumbledore's voice was soothing and calm, as if he knew what Hermione was thinking. It wouldn't really have surprised her if he did. "When your mother wrote to me I must say I was stunned. I had not known that anyone in your family had previously been associated with magic. I thought almost immediately of a member who joined the first Order of Phoenix at an even greater personal risk than most members. When he first joined he spoke to me about protection for his muggle wife and unborn child. I promised to do my best and for a time everything seemed fine. Then he came to me one night and told me that their safe house had been destroyed and that everything was gone. He was grief-stricken and angry and he has been a cold bitter man ever since. The destruction of the safe house was our first indication of a spy, a traitor in the Order. For a long time I thought that the same person who had betrayed the Potters had betrayed this man and his family." Dumbledore cleared his throat and nodded to Hermione and her mother. "After speaking to your mother I know believe- know- that you are his family. He was deceived into thinking you were both dead. He has grieved for you for a long time now, and I know your loss still pains him. Hermione, your mother has said she wishes to see him again. I know he would like to meet you as well, but you are 17 and can decide for yourself. Would you like to meet your father?"

Hermione hesitated and glanced at her mother. She'd just learned that her father was not who she thought it was and that he was, in fact a wizard. A wizard who had fought bravely with the Order of the Phoenix in the first war, a wizard who Dumbledore knew well enough to know he grieved, and a wizard who had mourned her for seventeen years. This father seemed so much warmer, so much brighter than her previous father with his angry voice and hard fists. Her mother's eyes were pleading and Hermione smiled at her. She felt no sorrow to learn that Mr. Granger was not her father and she felt only hopeful anticipation for her real father. "I think…. I know I'd like to meet him." Her mother gave a soft cry and threw her arms about her daughter's neck pulling her close and the two women cried together, for relief and anticipation.

* * *

Harry felt like hexing something. Or rather, there were a few people he particularly wanted to hex, but for now he settled for pacing in front of the fire, growling under his breath. He was vaguely aware of the first years cowering in a corner as far away from him as the Common Room would allow but he didn't care. He was terribly worried about Hermione- she turned so pale when McGonagall had cornered her. And now he had to deal with Ron who was even more worried about Hermione than Harry was… Ron had actually progressed to hexing anyone who tried to ask him what was wrong and was spending the rest of the time sitting on the couch and twirling his wand with a dark look on his face. No one had approached him in a few minutes and Harry knew that those who had not been hexed had learned from the example of those who had.

It wasn't just Ron and Hermione that was bothering him however. When she first heard that Hermione had been dragged off by McGonagall, Ginny had been concerned and stayed near them, waiting with them for news. Then Dean had returned to the Common Room and now he was 'comforting' her in the corner. Every time Harry glanced over, they were totally wrapped up in each other, Ginny sitting in Dean's lap with his arms wrapped tightly about her waist. The sight of them snogging made Harry want to hurl Dean from the highest astronomy tower. He settled for scowling out the window and studiously avoiding looking at them. He wished he could throw Dean in a few more detentions, but they were being fairly tame and no one else seemed bothered by their display, it was, after all much less intense than the sessions Ron used to have with Lavender.

He missed exactly what happened but there was suddenly several people shouting and a loud thump. He whirled to see Ginny sitting on the floor looking extremely peeved and Seamus and Dean both standing and screaming into each other's faces. Harry started forward, ready to leap to Ginny's defense, when he finally realized what his roommates were saying to each other. Seamus's face was red with anger as he bellowed, "You make me SICK. Trying to hide this, deny this. Trying to deny ME! It's like the astronomy tower never happened it's like I never told you how I felt, like you didn't say you felt the same way!"

Dean was equally upset. "You were the one who wanted to hide it! You didn't want everyone to know. I wanted to tell people! But you said we had to keep it secret, they wouldn't understand! Have you changed your mind then? FINE!" And with the final word Dean seized the front of Seamus's robes, pulled him close, and then they were snogging like they would never stop. There was a moment of intense quiet in the Common Room as everyone stared at the couple.

Behind him Harry distinctly heard Ron mutter, "Bloody HELL!" and he had to agree with his friend's assessment. Then he heard the thump of the portrait opening and he saw the hem of Ginny's robes disappearing out of it. Before he knew for sure what was happening he was after her, running as fast as he could to try and catch up with her head start.

He caught her on the stairs that led to the charms corridor and he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back to him. She struggled violently and knocked him off balance so that he fell backwards, pulling her with him. Harry sat up and released her, but she was done fighting and just stayed there, pressed against him, and trembling slightly. Harry could feel several spots where he would have bruises from her fists or heels but that didn't bother him for the moment "Gin?" he asked softly and it was like his words released a flood gate. She was crying hard into his shoulder, her whole body wracked with sobs. As Harry put his arms around her gently, unsure of what to do, he decided then and there that Dean and Seamus would both suffer painful deaths. He wished he had listened more to Hermione after he'd comforted a crying Cho, because he didn't know what to do in this situation either. He just kept his arms wrapped around her and stayed quiet, listening to her cry. It was nearly an hour before she stopped and pulled back violently to stare him in the face.

"It's not that I liked him that much." She stated as if it was a fact and Harry found himself nodding, though he knew she and Dean had been dating for over a year and a half now and she had to have liked him at least a little bit. "But I can't stand the thoughts of the gossips. They'll all say I t..t… turned him. People won't leave me alone. If I act upset they'll assume I'm heartbroken. If I'm happy they'll assume I was using Dean." Ginny's voice wobbled on her ex-boyfriend's name and Harry wished that there was something he could do to make it easier. He touched her shoulder lightly and uncertainly and Ginny closed her eyes at his touch, swallowing hard. "Did you know?" she whispered. "You shared a dorm with them. Did you know?"

Harry shook his head and then realized that Ginny couldn't see him. "No," he said and his voice was hoarse with regret and pity. If he hadn't been so thick maybe Ginny wouldn't have been dating Dean and she wouldn't be hurting so bad right now. "I didn't know. If I'd known I'd have told you…. I've wanted to tell you…. I" with a frustrated sigh he ran a hand through his hair. Ginny opened her eyes and stared at Harry with a slightly accusatory, slightly puzzled look. "I didn't like you and Dean dating, I didn't like seeing him with you, touching you. I wanted it to be me…. But I'd rather have him with you than see you cry. God Gin, you're amazing, incredible, the best….. if Dean couldn't…." Ginny stared at him for a moment after his outburst and then lunged at him, tackling him backwards onto the stairs as her lips found his.

* * *

A woman in a cloak hurried up to the entrance of the castle. The sun shone though the forecast had been for rain and the joy of the day was reflected in the smile on her face. The heavy doors opened before her and she ducked through, only to be caught up in a tight hug by the older woman waiting there. "Mina! It's good to see you!" the younger woman cried in an American accent

Professor McGonagall pulled back with a smile. "No one else calls me that Razi. Don't speak too loud, you'll make the students think I'm soft." In response Razi threw back her brilliant head of long blond hair, with its blue, red, and honey colored highlights and laughed musically.

"No one would dare mistake you for soft. Besides, I doubt any of them have known you since they were toddlers, so I am allowed a certain license, aren't I?" Razi smiled sweetly at her godmother as her eyes, golden with hints of purple, danced merrily. Her lips were full and bright red against her tanned skin and her smile was infectious and kind.

The strict professor chuckled and hugged the younger woman again. "It is good to see you outside of photographs. Writing letters is not the same as seeing you in person. If it weren't for that damned expensive inter-continental floo tax I'd not have had to miss the last few Christmases." The younger woman laughed in agreement and then the pair linked arms and walked up the stairs side by side, talking merrily and rapidly. Professor McGonagall motioned a blond seventh year Slytherin. "Grab her trunk and bring it along now."

The young man hefted the heavy trunk, his muscles rippling as he followed the women up the stairs. Strangers might have seen his dazed look as one of unintelligence, but those who knew him could tell that he was entranced with the beauty of the young woman ahead. Her trunk, he noted as he carried it, read "Property of Razi Adora Carminda Marnin Haldeman"

* * *

Severus Snape was in the middle of a very good dream. He and his wife were sitting in the crowd at the Hogwarts graduation. It was their daughter's graduation day. His wife smiled at him, her eyes shining with love and pride, and his daughter crossed the stage to stand at the podium. She had been elected to be on of the three class speakers. He had to swallow as touched her wand to her throat to amplify her voice, and he reached blindly for his wife's hand. She took his lightly and rested his palm against her abdomen, which was starting to swell slightly.

But then someone had the gall to knock on his door and jerk him out of his very private, very pleasant dream. With the urge to hex whoever it was to oblivion, he stood and crossed his quarters in a few quick strides, yanking the door open with a growl. He was somewhat pleasantly surprised to see it was Draco, and more pleased that the boy didn't flinch away from his professor's obviously bad temper. He'd always said that the boy would make a good wizard one day. He had common sense, he was powerful, and he was not easily intimidated.

"I just wanted to check in on you sir. You looked ill in class." Snape surpressed the urge to growl at the boy. He hated to be disturbed and he hated personal questions. But the boy looked concerned and this was a boy who had never been concerned about anyone, who had been raised to be hard and punishing and cruel, and who was now standing at his door asking him if he was alright. Perhaps there was more to the boy than the potential for a powerful wizard, perhaps he had the shot of becoming a good man.

He held the door open and motioned his favorite student in. "Come on in." He probably could have been politer, but polite and kind did not come easily to Severus Snape.

An hour or so later Draco was staring at his professor with wide and sympathetic eyes. "You haven't been able to find the photo? Could someone have picked it up?" The potions professor flinched at that suggestion and Draco hurried to add, "perhaps it was a prefect and you can just search in lost and found." Even as he spoke he knew his head of house would be reluctant to formally ask if the photo had been found to the Head Boy or Girl, who were technically in charge of lost and found. It would be tantamount to admitting a vulnerability to two of his least favorite people. To tell Draco about Jane and his loss of her photo was one thing. But Snape would see it as a weakness to even approach one of the Gryffindors to ask if the photo- clearly of a loving, kind woman- had been found. "I could ask for you sir… say it's of a distant Aunt and my mother sent it to me for a family project."

Even as he spoke Draco was calculating. Granger would probably be the easier to approach. It was hard to approach Potter without getting hexed, and these days the Gryffindor knew quite a few nasty ones, all of which he liked to use on Draco. Draco had never quite forgotten the last time they'd seriously crossed wands, or its bloody aftermath. He had no desire to repeat that experience. Then again, you had to be careful approaching Granger as well. The youngest Weasely boy was as likely to hex you as blink when it came to her and she showed a sickening desire to spend as much time with him as possible. Perhaps he'd be able to catch her after her arithmancy class, she didn't take that with her two male companions and therefore would be safer to approach. When Snape lifted his head and gave him a half pleading half hopeful look Draco knew he would find a way to talk to Granger, no matter what it took.

* * *

Professors McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick had all gathered in the staffroom at Dumbledore's insistence. It was late for such a meeting, but Dumbledore had been away from Hogwarts at Grimmauld Place for much of the morning and tied up in a meeting with the Granger women for much of the afternoon. So now, with it nearly midnight, the four Heads of Houses were gathered together. Minerva noted that Severus looked more pale and drawn than usual, but she doubted that he would confide in her. It wasn't her business in any case and she turned to Sprout with a question about a third year Hufflepuff who was struggling with Transfiguration.

Apparently she was having trouble with Herbology and Charms as well, and the three professors rapidly became involved with discussing possible aids and solutions. Minerva offered the tutoring abilities of the Head Girl, a favorite student of hers, while Flitwick insisted that Terry Boot of Ravenclaw would be an excellent tutor. In the end it was decided that it would be easiest to assign a tutor from the girl's own house, who could perhaps guide her and police her study habits a bit. Justin Finch-Fletchy was discarded for being slightly too overbearing and intimidating for a young girl, but Susan Bones was thought to be a perfect candidate. Sprout resolved to talk to her as early as possible the next day. Minerva noted that Severus stayed unusually quiet for a discussion about the shortcomings of a student not of his house, indeed, he didn't comment at all.

Their discussion was ended by the arrival of Dumbledore, who had a strangely pleased look on his face. When Minerva had seen him earlier this morning he had looked tired and stressed, reading an article in the paper about an entire city block that had been wiped out. She doubted it was a coincidence that the block was the same one that Tom Riddle had lived one as a young boy in an orphanage. The headmaster settled into on of the comfy chairs surrounding the staff table and waited for them to take their seats before speaking. "I have had several interesting pieces of news today. The first is what sent me to London to speak to Sirius and Remus, for it concerns them more than anyone. Flitwick my good friend, I must apologize for not giving you advance warning, but as it is rather good news I hope you will be pleased.

"Sixteen years ago I sent a secret member of the Order on a task for me." All four of his Heads of House were members of the Order, though they were members of separate groups and rarely worked together. It was easier that way. "She didn't return and I feared she had died, and no amount of digging turned up any evidence to the contrary. I could not tell her family and friends what had become of her, for her mission was far too secret, too sensitive and I would not risk the cause she'd given her life for. Her friends and family thought she'd merely walked out one day and never returned, with no warning whatsoever. Her loss was tragic and terrible for those who loved her, but it was wartime and not entirely unexpected. She had strong ties with some of the most powerful members of the resistance and it was thought that this was the reason she disappeared." Flitwick was growing steadily tenser and his intense eyes had not left Dumbledore's face. The headmaster had to bite back a smile. Ravenclaws could not be said to be fools and he knew the short teacher had a strong suspicion as to who he was talking about. "I recently received some surprising information. Our- my- worst fears were not to be realized. She did not die on that mission, but it turned out to be far more involved that I anticipated. She was tied up for three weeks there with no way to contact me to tell me she was running late. We had not planned for a long term mission and by the time she tried to return she had been discovered and her escape route cut off. She was not killed but captured and detained in a trap we had not anticipated. Fortunately she had her wand with her and could use it as needed, though she could not escape. As soon as I heard the rumors I deployed two trustworthy individuals to investigate. Their mission was a success, and they returned today. Calisto Black has returned to us." There was an immediate flurry of gasps and questions but Dumbledore held up his hands in a soothing manner. "She will be the best to answer any questions you can have. She's been very lonely and she's aged a bit more than she might have otherwise, but she is in good health and is happy to have returned. She said she will come visit tomorrow, she looks forward to visiting with you all again." Flitwick's eyes looked damp. Teachers never really recovered from the loss of their favorite pupil, and Calisto Black, as one of the most charming, talented, and lovely Ravenclaws in recent memory, had definitely been a favorite of Flitwick's. She'd been a favorite of all of them.

Dumbledore allowed them a few moments of marveling silence before he cleared his throat and continued. "There is more. Filch notified me earlier that the Founder's Indicator has at last been activated. The heirs of our four founders have become adults and now we must gather them and notify them. It will be up to them to battle the greatest evil the wizarding world has ever faced. I do not need to tell you that it is likely we are facing that evil right now." The emotion in the room at this announcement was electrifying. The Heirs of the Founders- they would appear every few generations- were exceptionally powerful witches and wizards. They were not necessarily descendents of the founders, though they often were. The Heirs were said to be those who most modeled the characteristics of a particular house, the ones who were the closest to the ideals of a particular founder. They were always very close in age, and they were said to come into their powers when the youngest turned seventeen. "There is a simple spell that will reveal their identities to us, and I will gather them tomorrow to start their training. You will all, of course, be a major part of their training. I need not tell you that their appearance is a top secret matter and should not be discussed with anyone. And now let us begin." He quickly explained the spell and the professors arranged themselves in a loose circle.

Sprout raised her wand and with a gentle flick spoke, "Auris. Hufflepuff" A jet of yellow light shot out of her wand to the center of the circle, just above the professor's heads.

"Aerius. Ravenclaw." A jet of bright blue light sprang from Flitwick's wand to met the yellow beam. Both seemed to brighten and pulsate where they touched.

"Aquarius. Slytherin." As Snape spoke green light burst from his wand to join others, and the glow intensified more than it had before.

Professor McGonagall was the fourth to lift her wand and speak, and as she did so a bolt of crimson light leapt to join the lights from the wands of her fellow professors. "Ignis. Gryffindor."

Finally Professor Dumbledore lifted his wand to speak. "Sophos accipio excusatio. Acclaro su haeres. Auris. Aerius. Aquarius. Ignis." A brilliant white light shot from his wand to join the others. The light intensified so greatly that they were forced to close their eyes and when they reopened them, there, written in the air in four different handwritings, each in the colors of one of the four houses, were the names of four students of Hogwarts, one from each house.


	5. Revelations and Realizations

Author's Note: I still own nothing!

* * *

The mother unicorn tossed her head and eyed the huge form suspiciously. There was little in this forest she feared- not many denizens of the woods would harm her or her young one and she could outrun or outfight any who dared to challenge her. The sleeping form had never threatened her, but it still made her uneasy whenever she came across it. Its huge stride would allow it to keep up with her fastest gallop and there was no way she could battle it alone and hope to emerge victorious. She generally attempted to avoid him, but today he slept on the route that she and her youngster normally took from the den-like cluster of trees where they slept to the sunny field where they spent the day. She wasn't sure whether to attempt to pass his sleeping form or not. Her son danced beside her with all of the impatience of youth, not understanding her caution. He was young and proud and brave and she loved everything about him, from his golden coat to the scar he'd gotten on his forehead after an argument with a kneezle. She attempted to quell him with a look but he tossed his head in annoyance and let out a high pitched squeal.

The reaction of the large, sleeping creature was instantaneous, and he was on his feet with a deafening bellow. Her son, realizing his error far too late, squealed in panic and shot backwards to cower behind his mother. Like all youngsters he placed his faith in her abilities to rectify any situation and she wasn't about to let him down. The way the monster had leapt to his feet had trapped them against a rocky embankment and the mother unicorn reared and screamed her threat to the sky. She knew she could not win this battle but if she could distract the creature long enough perhaps her son could escape. If he could find the rest of the herd, there was a chance he could survive. The creature before her roared and stamped his feet so hard that the entire forest seemed to shake with his rage. The mother unicorn was just about to charge when the large creature dropped to his knees and peered down at them from his great height. Something made her hesitate and stare back up at him. His dark eyes met her silver ones, and she saw his gaze flick momentarily over her golden coated son.

All was quiet for several long minutes, the monster and the unicorn staring into each other's eyes intently. Then, ever so slowly, the monster stretched one giant hand forward to touch her nose ever so lightly, his finger as large as her head. "Pretty," the monster spoke in a thick accent. She trembled for a moment, but he did not harm her. The trio stood silently, the frightened young unicorn hidden behind his mother, the lovely mother still and nervous, and the monster quiet and awed with one finger lightly touching the soft skin of the mother unicorn's nose.

It wasn't until they heard a voice in the distance that they moved. The voice was faint but clear and familiar. "Grawp! Graaaa-aaaaaaawp!" The giant- who was not really a monster as the mother unicorn had realized, withdrew his finger and turned his head toward the voice a smile lighting his face. He looked lonely, she realized with a start, and felt sympathy for him rather than fear.

"That's Hagger!" The giant cried, his loud voice filled with excitement. He stood back up and turned to leave, but not before waving a hand over his shoulder in goodbye. The mother unicorn stared after him for a moment before turning to nuzzle her youngster and lead him toward the meadow. Her fear was replaced with a strange sort of affection, and she knew that she wouldn't mind seeing her slightly scary, though kind and gentle, giant friend.

* * *

Severus stepped out of the fireplace and into a gloomy, drafty hall. It was eerily quiet and he drew his robes about him to guard himself from an icy draft. The hall was rather grimy looking, with dust on all the surfaces and several rather moldy looking carpets scattered across the cold stone floor. The curtains that hung in the windows were faded by the sun and filled with moth holes and he was fairly sure that he could hear doxies buzzing from the nearest set. The windows that they framed were so dusty they were hard to see out of and the numerous portraits hung on the walls were so dirt-encrusted that their occupants were difficult to see. They looked more like shadowy outlines than portraits of real people. The only noise was the occasional sneeze and disgruntled mumblings of the various portraits. The hook-nosed Potions Professor whirled to glare down at the house elf that crouched beside him. He cringed as Severus's furious gaze fell upon him.

"What is this… MESS? Your job is to see to my mother's estate, and this is the state I find it in when I return home?" Severus stepped closer to the cringing house elf and seized him by the pillowcase he was wearing. He lifted the house elf up so that he could stare directly into the elf's eyes. "You have one job, to look after my mother and her well-being. Does this," and with his words he roughly turned the elf so that it could survey the miserable state of the room, "look like it is good for her well-being to you?" The house elf trembled in his hand and his opened his clenched fist in disgust and anger so that the trembling elf dropped abruptly to cower at his feet. "This will mean _clothes_."

It tugged at his robes in its fear and he resisted the temptation to kick it. The state of the hall was shocking, and this was the entrance hall, the hall that was traditionally kept in the finest condition so that guests would be suitably impressed. The house elf, Jecky, spoke up in his tiny high pitched voice. "Please master, please! Not clothes, no! Not clothes! I've TRIED Master but I wasn't good enough. I couldn't help it master. I'm sorry, give me another chance. I'll do better. I promise! I won't fail you again." Severus cut off the pleading of the tiny elf with a sharp prod from his booted foot. For a moment he almost shuddered at the thought of what Hermione Granger would say if she saw the way he was treating the elf but he quickly dismissed her from his mind. He wasn't sure why he'd even thought of her.

"Tell me elf, what you mean by YOU'VE tried. Last I heard there were twelve house elves serving this house. Where are the others?" He dropped his voice into a low, dangerous hiss. When he'd been young his father had drilled into him the importance of never raising his voice. Only those who were truly powerful could command attention and control others without shouting. There were only a handful of times in his life that Severus had succumbed to the temptation to yell, and he was fighting the urge to scream at the house elf now. The pathetic creature likely couldn't stand any more pressure. It was a good thing it had been Jecky who had come to fetch him. One of the older house elves would have surely keeled over by now.

The house elf was trembling so hard at this point Severus half expected him to melt into a puddle of quivering jelly. He sneered in disgust. "The others have died Master. There are only two of us left and Jiggy is old and can't work. Mistress didn't want us to leave, she ordered us not to leave Master or I would have told you. I tried Master but I failed. I cared for the Mistress and her apartments but I failed to keep the house clean." The house elf's high pitched voice ended in a pathetic sob as he clutched desperately at Severus's feet. The wizard deepened his frown. "I only came out because Mistress is so sick, or I'd never have broken her orders. I'm sorry Master!" The house elf then broke into hysterical sobs, snot and tears running down his ugly face. For a moment Severus was struck by the thought that if Hermione Granger could see Jecky right now she'd likely curse him. He quickly dismissed the stray idea; annoying students and their opinions were unimportant to him.

Ignoring the weeping Jecky, Severus whirled with a dramatic swirl of his robes and stalked toward his mother's quarters. Jecky scrambled after him, tears still dripping from his eyes like rain off the petals of a primrose. He was disgusted to see that the rest of the manor was in the same state as the entrance hall- or even worse. The sweeping stairs that led up to the mansion's second floor were crumbling and Severus was forced to slow his pace lest he trip on the broken edges of the marble staircase. At the top of the stairs he turned left, down a hallway that was darker than he remembered, perhaps because all of the candle sconces on the wall were empty. Some hung at odd angles and others were missing. Behind him Jecky snapped his fingers and a trio of glowing lights appeared and circled above Severus's head and threw a soft white light that made the shadows ahead and behind him somehow more frightening.

A large yellowish door loomed ahead on his left. It was at least fifteen feet high and clearly had been white at some point in the past and the right handed door hung crookedly from its hinges. Severus shot another look back at Jecky who was still tailing after him but the house elf was staring sullenly at his feet. Severus bit his tongue and entered the dark room. On the other side of the room he could just see the dim outline of a bed. Beside the bed crouched a skeletal creature, its gray skin stretched tight over narrow ribs. In three long strides Severus was beside the bed and he could hardly disguise his gasp of horror. The woman in the bed was pathetically thin, with her eyes sunk so deeply into her skull their color could no longer be seen and her skin had taken on the waxy color of a corpse. "Mother!" he gasped as he sank to his knees by her bed and took her hand in his own. He wouldn't have known she was alive if not for the slow rattling of her breathing.

His mother slowly turned to look at him. She stared for a long moment before a slow smile of recognition crossed her face. "Sev, my boy," she gasped before breaking out into a fit of coughing. Severus swallowed hard, wracked by guilt. He had not visited in far too long, because he hated the memories that darkened the halls of his childhood home. He had forgotten that his mother was haunted by many of the same memories that tormented him. He leaned forward and kissed his mother's cheek lightly before motioning Jecky toward the fireplace to fetch a healer from St. Mungos. It was likely too late to save her life; his mother was too old and too far gone. But at least they might be able to make her last few hours more comfortable.

He swallowed hard and spoke softly, "Mother, I am sorry….."

She interrupted him, "No, Sevie, there's no time for that now. You must listen to me; there is something that I have been keeping from you…."

* * *

Harry Potter couldn't quite believe it. Yesterday, Ginny Weasley had been dating his roommate Dean Thomas. Yesterday, Dean had dumped Ginny in a rather public manner, a crime for which Harry was still contemplating the punishment. And YESTERDAY he had finally told Ginny how he felt, and he'd been rewarded by a rather long snogging session. On the stairs. Above the transfiguration department. Thank Merlin McGonagall hadn't found them.

And then flash forward to today. Harry was sitting in the library. Without Ginny. Waiting for Draco Malfoy, of all people, so that they could work on a potions project. Harry groaned and dropped his face into his open potions book. Draco was late, which just gave Harry too much time to think. He hadn't seen Ginny this morning, though he'd tried to wait by the stairs for her to come down for breakfast (subtlely so that Ron wouldn't notice) but she hadn't come down and he had ended up having to skip breakfast and run so that he wouldn't be late for Charms. It might have worked if he hadn't had a run in with Peeves, and now he had detention from the normally good-natured Flitwick for being late. Harry lifted his head and scanned the library. Still no sign of Draco. Or Ginny. He dropped his face back into the book with a thump and a groan.

"You know Potter, if you are so hungry you're trying to eat your books, you could just go to the kitchens, the house elves are wonderful. Unless you're still working with Granger on her 'free the house elves' thing." Harry lifted his head at the familiar drawl to see Draco leaning casually against the bookshelf a few feet away. A trio of fourth-years was staring at the blond Slytherin and giggling madly. Harry scowled at them before focusing his gaze on Draco.

"You're late. You were the one that said we should meet at four." The blond shrugged and sat casually in the seat next to Harry's.

"I was held up. Some first year got stuck in the vanishing step in the staircase above the great hall. Idiot stepped in with both feet and sunk up to his shoulders before one of his friends thought to grab his arm and hold on. His little firstie friends were not strong enough to pull him out on their own." Draco shook his head and snickered. "I think it was the same first year you had to help when he turned his own head into a bludger. Skinny little blond Hufflepuff, right?"

Harry stared at Draco for a long moment in surprise. Not only had Draco actually stopped to help a first year, but now he was joking about it? He was about to open his mouth to ask Draco what was wrong with him, but then thought better of it. They had to work on this project together, and it would be foolish to antagonize Draco while he did so. "Yeah, same kid. He accidentally transfigured his friends into a litter of kittens a few days ago; Hermione had to help him out. That kid's going to blow up Hogwarts by the time he's a fifth year."

To Harry's shock, Draco threw back his head and laughed. Harry couldn't stop himself from grinning in response as Draco regained control of himself and smirked back at Harry. The two boys stared at each other for several long moments, neither sure of were this was going. Draco's sarcastic drawl broke the silence. "Well, I suppose we should get to work. Don't think you're going to get out of doing your share just because you're rather hopeless at potions. Remedial potions?"

Harry shot Draco a dirty look at the reminder of his torturous occlumency lessons. "Well, if I was a Slytherin I'd have an Exceeds Expectations and you know it. Crabbe and Goyle used to get Acceptables when their potions were so bad they melted their cauldrons, didn't they?"

The Slytherin stared at Harry for a long moment, and Harry wondered if he'd gone too far by implying that Snape wasn't a fair professor. Then Draco smirked and shook his head. "I knew it! You harbor a secret dream to be a Slytherin!" Harry opened his mouth to protest before waving his hand at Draco in an 'I give up' motion and pulling his open potions book toward him. Still smirking, Draco opened his own book without comment and the two settled down to get to work.

* * *

Sirius slumped at the kitchen table and stared into his coffee cup. He abso-bloody-lutely hated mornings. This one was worse than normal, because he hadn't slept a great deal the night before. He'd spent a large amount of time sitting outside of Remus's door, begging him to open the door and talk. He had not gotten any response. When he'd finally given up and returned to his own room- through his years of friendship with Remus he'd learned that at time it was best to leave his old classmate alone- he'd found Colista sitting outside of his door. She'd leapt to her feet when she saw him, but he'd walked past without a word. He'd felt her grab at his arm as he passed, but he pulled free. Then he'd lain in bed for hours, staring at his ceiling. Sirius lifted his coffee cup and took a sip. That was the second time he'd walked away from Colista since she'd been back from wherever she'd been. After Remus had walked out yesterday, Sirius had nodded at Dumbledore and walked out after his friend without a word.

The door behind him creaked open and Sirius shoved the extra coffee cup sitting in front of him toward the chair to his left. "Here ya go, mate. I knew you'd need caffeine if you had a night anything like my own."

Sirius lifted his coffee cup to take another sip and nearly choked when he heard a soft voice say, "Good-morning Sirius." The tall man leapt to his feet and turned to look at his sister. His twin sister. She had taken a few steps into the room and now she stood uncertainly near the center of the room, staring at him and chewing on her lower lip, a habit that their mother had tried (unsuccessfully) to break her of their entire childhood. Sirius set his coffee cup down and turned to walk out of the kitchen. "Sirius… please don't walk away from me again…" Colista's voice wobbled as if she was about to cry and Sirius stopped in the doorway. He'd never been able to walk away from her when she was upset, and now was no exception.

He turned back to her and scowled. "YOU left. Why shouldn't I?" He whirled and started toward the door, only to freeze once more at the sound of his sister's voice.

"I didn't WANT to leave! Why can't you understand that?" This time she really was in tears, but Sirius whirled anyways and was directly in front of her in two strides.

To her credit, she did not shrink away from his anger. Besides the Mauraders, she was the only one who had never cringed away from one of his explosive rages. "You didn't want to?! How DARE you say that. Remus was DESTROYED when you left." Colista opened her mouth to protest, but Sirius cut her off. "Don't start that 'I didn't want to leave' nonsense. You PACKED, Colista. That was the problem. Remus told you he was a werewolf, and the next day you pack and leave. We looked for you; even then we believed you'd be captured. But that doesn't change the fact that you were planning to leave. It destroyed Remus, you know. He trusted you, he told you his deepest secret, and you packed to leave. Then you vanished, and we thought it was because you were so close to us and we were so active in the order. He believed he'd driven you away and then that his relationship with you had resulted in your capture." Tears were running down Colista's cheeks, and Sirius could feel tears in his own eyes. "If you'd just been captured, yesterday would have been the happiest of my life. But you planned to leave, to leave my friend who loved you for something he couldn't help, and for that I can never forgive you." His rant over, Sirius tried to brush past his sister, but she grabbed his arm and didn't let go.

"Sirius, please! I didn't leave because he told me he was a werewolf. It's true, I was upset at Remus. I was upset at all of you. Remus and I had been together for four years, and until then he hadn't trusted me enough to tell me the truth. Everyone knew, Sirius! Everyone but me. Lily knew, and she and James hadn't been together for half as long as Remus and I. YOU knew, Peter and James knew, Dumbledore knew… everyone in the order knew! All my friends knew, and none of them told me. You all lied to me each and every month. I didn't care that he was a werewolf. I cared that none of you trusted me enough to tell me." Sirius tried to pull his hand away from his sister, but she wouldn't let go. "No, you will listen to me. I DIDN'T plan to leave. I had a mission; I was part of the Order!" Sirius stopped trying to pull away his hand, and instead stared at his sister in shock. Out of their entire group of friends during the first war, she was the only one who'd never joined the Order. She'd worked as an Auror, but she'd always brushed off invitations to join the Order, saying that she was helping in her own way. Dumbledore had never pressured her, and now Sirius understood why. Colista had been a member of the Order the entire time.

* * *

Razi sat alone in her darkened office. She'd finished decorating it a few hours ago, with the help of her godmother. Minerva had made a few jokes about how frequently the decorations in the office had changed, and at the time Razi had laughed. Now that she was alone, she felt differently. The office seemed closed, darkened by the conflicting personalities of its recent occupants. The young woman rested her elbows on her desk and buried her face in her hands, her curly locks tumbling around her face. She tried to take a deep fortifying breath, but when she opened her eyes and looked at the newspaper lying on the desk it became a soft sob.

The headline read "You-Know-Who's Cruelty Shocks the Wizarding World Once Again". The story below spoke of Death Eater's attacking a muggle airport, which as Razi understood it, was a sort of non-magical inter-national floo station. The Death Eaters, watched over during the attack by Lord Voldemort himself, had targeted young families traveling together before destroying a large portion of the airport. The photo showed piles of children's bodies stacked within the airport. Razi could hardly look at it, and know that HE had done such a terrible thing. For the first time since she'd arrived in England, she had doubts about the success of her mission. But she couldn't fail, because then she would truly be alone in the world. Failure could mean the end of the wizarding world and the end of so many young lives. She HAD to succeed, and worst of all, she had to do it alone. If anyone found out, ANYONE, they'd surely turn against her. She couldn't trust anyone. If they found out, it would be the end of everything.

* * *

Harry was ready to scream in frustration. It was now nearly time for curfew, and he had yet to see Ginny today. He'd been tempted to consult the Marauder's Map, but it was currently in Ron's possession and then Ron would want to know WHY Harry needed the map and Harry had never exactly been the best liar. Then Ron would know, and Harry had a feeling that THAT conversation would end with him having a broken nose, and Harry didn't really want to spend the rest of the night in the hospital wing. So Harry was stuck with searching for Ginny on his own. And now the search was interrupted. He'd been on his way to meet Hermione and Ron in the Room of Requirement so that she could let them know how things had gone with her mother, but then a second year had run up to him with a note from Dumbledore. He was to go to the Headmaster's Office immediately, which would mean he was going to miss the meeting with Ron and Hermione. After sending his patronus to let them know he wouldn't make their meeting (Hermione had figured out how to send messages with their patronuses shortly after Harry had told her he'd seen Tonks send a message that way) he'd hurried to the Headmaster's office.

Now he was sitting in an armchair in front of Dumbledore's desk, with Draco Malfoy on one side, and Terry Boot and Susan Bones on his other side. And no Dumbledore. The four students had arrived, entered the office, and taken a seat. They'd now been sitting here in silence for nearly ten minutes. Terry and Susan had greeted Harry when he'd entered, and the three of them had shared several moments of quiet conversation about the last DA meeting when Draco had entered and they'd all fallen silent. All Harry could think about was that he should be meeting with Ron and Hermione, where maybe he could casually ask if either of them had seen Ginny that day. He'd be asking as a concerned friend of course, and not as the best friend of her big brother who'd just so happened to snog her the night before. But instead, he was stuck here waiting for Dumbledore to make his appearance. And Dumbledore was LATE.

Just as Harry thought that, the door opened and Dumbledore strode in, followed by McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and Sprout. Harry swallowed slightly. What could have happened that called for four students to meet with all four Heads of Houses as well as Dumbledore? He hadn't done anything too terrible in the last few days, though he had tested a charm, created by Fred and George, on the school owls. They'd all flown loop-de-loops for several days afterwards. Dumbledore made his way to his desk and took his seat, gazing over his half-moon glasses at the four students. His eyes were twinkling slightly, which went a long way toward reassuring Harry. He noticed that while Terry and Susan remained tense, Draco relaxed as well at the sight of the headmaster's familiar sparkle.

"I gathered you all here for some rather extraordinary news. It is very important, and I hope that you will all give me your full attention, and not think about your snogging session in the transfiguration department." Harry felt himself flush and could see Draco snickering out of the corner of his eye. Thankfully Terry and Susan just seemed rather puzzled. Harry kept his gaze down; he was too nervous to meet the headmaster's gaze. Did Dumbledore know EVERYTHING that went on in this school? Before he could fully contemplate that line of thinking, the Headmaster continued. "I am sure that you've all heard of prophecies. Some of you, indeed, are more familiar with them than others." Harry felt himself flush again. "There was a prophecy made many years ago, in the time of the Founders of Hogwarts, by a young witch named Morganna. She was extraordinarily gifted and as this prophecy could have become very dangerous in the wrong hands, it was kept secret. The secret has been passed down through the caretakers of Hogwarts throughout the centuries and it has at last come to pass." Dumbledore steepled his fingers together and seriously considered the students. "The prophecy said that at a time of great danger to the wizarding world as a whole, four students would rise up to defend the school and save the world. They would be Heirs to the Founders, not through bloodlines, but through their similarity to the Founder of the House and their powerful magical talents. Instruments were made to watch for the Heirs, and spells created to identify them once they had appeared. I am pleased to tell you that you four are the Heirs of the Founders." There were several long moments of silence before Dumbledore continued. Harry found he could hardly breathe. Him? Heir to Gryffindor? That was impossible! "Now, before you protest, this is indeed possible. The four of you must work together to bring down the threat that faces us now- Lord Voldemort. It will be the friendship you four have for one another, as well as the ties you make between your houses, that will allow us to survive."

Terry leapt to his feet so quickly that he knocked his chair backwards. Professor Sprout gasped and Professor McGonagall exclaimed, "Boot! Really!"

But Terry's face was flushed to a deep red that Harry had thought was special to Ron. His eyes flashed and he scowled around the room. "We're supposed to be FRIENDS? The four of us- friends?! And the Wizarding World depends on us? Well you might as bloody well kiss it good-bye Professors, because there is no way that we can get along with THAT!" His eyes wild, Terry thrust one arm forward and pointed it dramatically toward Draco.

Draco became even paler and then flushed a deep red. Harry saw his hands tighten on the arm rests of his chair and then the Slytherin was on his feet, his face shoved up into Terry's. Harry glanced over at the Professors, but they hadn't budged from their positions. McGonagall caught his eyes and jerked her chin toward the arguing boys. Apparently they had to handle this on their own, between the four of them. Susan was pale and her eyes were wide as she stared up at Terry and Draco. Before Draco could hex Terry into next week- Harry had noticed that Draco's wand was clenched in his hand- Harry pried them two boys apart and stared into Terry's face. "Calm DOWN. So this won't be easy; there's a lot history. But we have to do this; you heard Dumbledore. They're counting on us, and your attitude isn't helping."

Harry placed his palm flat against Terry's chest and shoved him backwards until the back of Terry's legs pressed against Harry's now-unoccupied chair. Susan reached up and wrapped one hand around Terry's wrist and pulled him down so that he sank into the seat. She immediately leaned forward and began whispering into Terry's ear, keeping one hand around Terry's wrist and placing the other on his leg. Harry turned to face Draco, who still had his wand out. Harry stepped forward and scowled at the other boy. "Put your wand away. We're going to be FRIENDS now remember? Friends do hex one another." Harry searched Draco's eyes, looking for the sarcastic but humorous boy he'd seen in the library earlier.

Draco scowled and his face grew even darker. "I don't take orders, Potter. And I don't need the approval of a pretty-boy Ravenclaw." Harry forced his face to remain neutral and fought the urge to reach for his wand. Standing face to face with an angry, armed Draco Malfoy was not the most comfortable position, but Harry did not want to aggravate him more. Even if Draco was being rather unreasonable.

Harry dropped his voice so that Susan and Terry would be unable to hear. "If you don't need his approval, then why do you care what he says? Let it go, don't get this way. It just proves what he says." For a moment Harry thought that Draco was going to hex him- or hit him. Then Draco stepped back and put his wand away. "Fine. But I'm not hanging out with Granger and Weasley. Their complete inability to realize that they're dating is sickening. Turns my stomach." Harry had to smile and he swore that he saw Draco smile back for a moment before the Slytherin turned and strode out of the room.

* * *

After the students had left, the professors exchanged a long, tired, glance. Dumbledore smiled slightly. "They'll do nicely." The other professors stared at their headmaster in disbelief. They exchanged cautious glances before they finally broke the silence.

"Albus, you cannot be serious. Didn't you see them arguing? They could not get along even for a few moments in front of their Heads of Houses. How can you expect them to actually become friends?!" Minerva was getting into her rages, Severus could tell. They were not as impressive as the infamous rages of Molly Weasley, but Minerva had terrified a number of students in her time, as well as a few fellow staff members. Personally, Severus liked to stand back and watch her explode. "The entire wizarding world depends on these three teenagers keeping their tempers and forgiving past wrongs. The knowledge of that might hold back the other three, but as for Mr. Malfoy… I mean, look at his father!"

Well, he would stand back and watch her explode, as long as she was not attacking one of the most promising students he'd seen in his career. "Mister Malfoy," Severus said silkily, "is NOT his father." He focused his eyes on Minerva's until the older woman flushed slightly and looked down, apparently ashamed. To be fair, she probably was ashamed. Minerva McGonagall had always gone out of her way to be fair, and to judge each student on their own merits rather than on the merits of their parents or their house. And to be fair, when he was younger Draco had behaved in such a way as to cast doubts about his character. But as of late, he'd seen glimpses of real character in the seventh year, and he wouldn't hear the Slytherin run down.

"Now, now. You seem to underestimate our students. They will come together, they will try. I have no doubts about that. Nor do I doubt that they will succeed, and not only because they care about the future of the wizarding world. I think that they are all more alike than they know. This will be good for them. Now then, it is about time for us to head off to our quarters so that we can be prepared for classes in the morning." At this, the other Heads of Houses said their good-nights and left Dumbledore's office. Severus kept his gaze on the carpet until they'd left, when he met Dumbledore's gaze. The old man was smiling slightly at him. "I assume there is a reason that you are still here, Severus? Something to discuss? I thought you'd be to bed early. After all, you get to see your wife for the first time in nearly 18 years tomorrow, and you get to meet your daughter. You want to be rested for that. Or is that why you came? I swore not to reveal her identity before the meeting."

Severus found he could not stand still. He traced the edge of Dumbledore's large oriental rug with his steps for a few moments before he could speak. "It isn't her I came about. You heard my mother died this morning?" Dumbledore nodded and opened his mouth, likely to offer his condolences, but Severus plowed on. "She told me something this morning. She shared her 'secret'." He recognized that his voice had turned bitter, but he couldn't help that right now. "I'm not her BLOODY SON! All these years, and she LIED TO ME! She STOLE me Albus!" He whirled around, but there was nothing near to throw. Dumbledore had kept the office fairly clear after Potter's little tempertantrum at the end of his fifth year. "She bloody stole me after she bloody aborted, because she was too afraid to admit to my father that she couldn't carry his child to term! So she bloody snuck into a mansion and stole me!" Severus desperately wanted to punch something. His entire childhood hatred, his childhood hopes and fears, his entire history was destroyed. "And not only that, no, she couldn't just steal me from a random house. She had to steal me from a PUREBLOOD house, from a pureblood family, so that she knew her little precious would be a wizard. She stole me from the BLOODY POTTERS! I am bloody James Potter's twin brother!"


End file.
